


Forever is Our Today

by LeapAngstily



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Age Difference, Ambiguous Relationships, Anal Sex, Beard Kink, Blow Jobs, Coach/Player Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, I promised someone beard porn, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Prandelli's Beard Appreciation(TM), so here it is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-09-05 23:18:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16820446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeapAngstily/pseuds/LeapAngstily
Summary: Riccardo loves and hates Cesare’s beard with equal passion.





	Forever is Our Today

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheBlackWook](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBlackWook/gifts), [behzaintfunny](https://archiveofourown.org/users/behzaintfunny/gifts).



> Dedicated to my two biggest enablers, Kellin and Cécile -- you know what you did! Also to my lovely wife, Nanna, who doesn't read fics that much anymore, but still puts up with my whining all the time.
> 
> I may have mentioned the possibility of beard porn during my previous Prandellivo story, so obviously I had to make it happen. That said, there's no connection between this and the previous story.

Riccardo loves and hates Cesare’s beard with equal passion.

Hates, because Cesare only ever grows his beard out when he is living in another country, far away from Riccardo. Seeing Cesare with a beard always reminds Riccardo that Cesare is not his to have or to hold — Cesare has never embraced the new love in the way he did with his late wife, leaving Riccardo pining from afar when all he wants to do is stay close to Cesare.

Loves, because really, what is there not to love? He loves the way Cesare’s beard feels beneath his fingers, rough and soft at the same time. He is always left wondering how that combination can even be possible. He also loves how the beard makes Cesare’s features look softer, like inviting the touch. He loves Cesare with the beard, just as he loves Cesare without it.

He would never tell any of this to Cesare, because it is sappy and embarrassing to admit even to himself. Instead, he takes every chance he gets to show it in actions; flooding Cesare with affectionate touches whenever he visits him in Dubai, caressing and petting and tugging on his grey – almost white – beard like it’s the only thing that matters.

“What’s the occasion?” Cesare laughs against his lips when Riccardo cups his face between his hands and presses their lips together chastely, peppering his mouth with feather light kisses, fingers running through the rough, soft hair covering his cheeks and jawline.

“I’ve missed you,” Riccardo informs him between the kisses, the soft words almost swallowed into their heavy breaths, “does there have to be any other reason.”

“There usually is,” Cesare comments, but allows Riccardo to push him backwards until the backs of his knees hit the designer couch in his club-sponsored house and he drops down to sitting position. Riccardo follows the movement, climbing on the couch and straddling his thighs.

It is not a couch Riccardo would buy for his own place. It is not a couch Cesare would buy for himself, either, Riccardo knows as much. But they will have to do with what they got – Riccardo doubts the Al Nasr management would react too kindly to their coach’s younger friend slash occasional lover complaining about the uncomfortable furniture.

Cesare’s beard is thick, not to mention longer than it was when he last visited Riccardo in Italy; Riccardo can practically sink his fingers inside the coarse hair. He nuzzles his nose against Cesare’s cheek affectionately, lips brushing the beard gently before Cesare turns his head to capture Riccardo’s lips in a proper kiss.

Riccardo feels the tip of Cesare’s tongue against his lower lip and he parts his lips easily, eagerly pushing against Cesare’s tongue with his own. There is no hesitation in the way Cesare kisses him, captures his lips and explores his mouth like staking his claim anew. There is no need for any claim, of course: there is no one Riccardo would rather give himself to, freely and willingly.

Riccardo remembers when they first kissed, in 2014 after the World Cup and Cesare’s resignation, over half a decade after Cesare’s wife passed away.

Cesare had been so careful, like Riccardo was a delicate flower than might be blown away if he so much as breathed wrongly in his direction. Riccardo never asked him if it was because that’s how he used to kiss his wife, during those final months; or if it was because he had been there to see Riccardo at his worst, growing up alone and scared in the world that didn’t feel like his own.

They have come a long way since those fumbling first kisses. Riccardo is not scared anymore. The alone part is still debateable.

Riccardo doesn’t let go of Cesare’s beard, caressing his face with clear intent, pulling Cesare closer when he tries to pull away and break the kiss. He never wants this kiss to end, because it’s at moments like this when it is the easiest to convince himself they share something unique, something beautiful.

Cesare’s hands are splayed on Riccardo’s thighs, rubbing his palms in circular motions against the too tight faded jeans Cesare claims to hate but never seems to complain when he gets to pull them off Riccardo’s body. It is the only reason Riccardo cannot bring himself to throw those jeans away, even if he owns many more pairs that would be more comfortable or more age-appropriate.

Cesare’s hands are moving upwards with each circle they make, the pressure on Riccardo’s thighs moving closer to his erection, constrained and even painful inside the unyielding denim.

“Cesare please,” he whines against the older man’s lips when the touches finally reach their destination, only the tips of Cesare’s fingers pressed against the straining bulge. The touch is light, but it’s still too much, the contact sending a new wave of warmth through Riccardo’s body that quickly settles in the pit of his stomach and makes his jeans feel even tighter than before.

“I’ve missed you too, Riccardo,” Cesare admits – just a whisper, words breathed out against Riccardo’s parted lips – and then he opens the button of his jeans and pulls the fly open, releasing the worst pressure against Riccardo’s cock. He pushes the jeans down Riccardo’s thighs as far as they go – which is not far, considering Riccardo is still straddling him – before he slips one of his hands inside Riccardo’s briefs and grasps his erection into a loose hold.

Riccardo gasps loudly even though he should have expected what was coming. His forehead is pressed against Cesare’s and hands are still cupping his face, but he can’t kiss him again, because it feels like he can’t _breathe_ , even with his mouth free to do so. Cesare’s moustache is scratching the sensitive skin above his upper lip as he gasps for air against his mouth.

Cesare begins stroking him carefully, calloused hand gentle at first, but then he tightens his hold when Riccardo instinctively bucks his hips against the hand, trying to get more contact. His cock is growing harder with each stroke, until it feels there’s not enough space inside his briefs to hold him.

“Get up,” Cesare tells him quietly, his free hand patting Riccardo’s thigh affectionately, “let’s get these jeans off before they strangle you.” Cesare knows him so well.

Riccardo stands up on shaky legs and allows Cesare to push his jeans and underwear down his thighs and all the way to the floor, until all he needs to do is step out of them and back into Cesare’s embrace.

Cesare is looking up at him with adoring eyes – it’s that look that keeps Riccardo coming back for more, because as long as Cesare keeps looking at him like this, he can never convince himself that what they share is not real. Cesare’s hands are resting on his hips and he leans in to press a kiss against his still clothed stomach, just above his bellybutton. It is too far away from where Riccardo needs his lips, but fortunately Riccardo doesn’t have to wait for long.

“Sit down,” Cesare tells him, using his hands on Riccardo’s hips to make him move and sit down on the couch next to Cesare. The couch really is uncomfortable – too hard, with too rough fabric that will probably leave carpet burn on Riccardo’s buttocks if they are not careful – but Riccardo’s brain doesn’t get much further than that, because Cesare slides away from the couch and kneels down before him, hands urging Riccardo to spread his legs to give him more room.

“Be careful, your old knees probably won’t agree with that,” Riccardo jokes half-heartedly, smiling down at Cesare who returns his smile with his own sheepish one.

“Cheeky little thing, aren’t you?” Cesare doesn’t wait for Riccardo’s answer, he only leans in and kisses the pale skin of his abdomen, revealed by Riccardo’s t-shirt that has ridden up when he sat down. His beard brushes against Riccardo’s cock, probably unintentionally, the hairs teasing the sensitive shaft, and breath catches in Riccardo’s throat. He must fight down the sound that’s about to escape his lips.

Cesare takes his time tracing Riccardo’s abs with his lips, pushing up the shirt with one hand while the other caresses Riccardo’s knee, keeping Riccardo rooted in place even though what Riccardo really wants to do is squirm and whine until Cesare quits his teasing.

“For fuck’s sake,” Riccardo breathes out and leans his head back, resting it against the backrest and looking at the white ceiling, counting the embedded lights in failed attempt to calm his hard-on down. It never works, definitely not with Cesare, but he keeps trying, time after time.

And of course, right when Riccardo manages to distract himself for a fraction of a second, Cesare moves down and licks the underside of his shaft. His beard tickles the insides of Riccardo’s thighs, an intimate caress that always reminds Riccardo why exactly he loves Cesare’s beard so much, even as he also hates it.

Cesare licks and kisses his way up Riccardo’s shaft, until he reaches his tip and takes it inside his mouth gingerly. It’s almost too tender for Riccardo’s liking, but he forces himself to keep his hips still, allowing Cesare to find his own rhythm, taking Riccardo in bit by bit, one hand caressing his balls in time with his sucks.

Cesare rarely blows him, and it’s a damn pity, because he’s actually really good at it: attentive and altruistic in a way most men Riccardo has slept with are not. Riccardo knows his hesitation stems from his late-at-life sexual awakening, though, so he doesn’t ask for more than he can get.

It has taken them a long time to figure it out, what Cesare likes and what not, because all he knew when they first became involved was how to make love to his wife, all his earlier experiences too far away to recollect.

Riccardo never minded, because it has given him a chance to be the teacher for once, after having been coached by Cesare for years to an end.

Cesare is not his coach anymore – hasn’t been for many years – so there is nothing holding them back anymore, except for Cesare’s own hesitation.

Riccardo doesn’t want to push him, afraid he might unintentionally push Cesare away from him.

Cesare is going slow, but also with clear intent, alternating between soft kisses and licks, before wrapping his lips around the tip of Riccardo’s cock again, sucking harder and making Riccardo let out an involuntary moan. He is slowly but surely driving Riccardo crazy with want, pushing him towards the orgasm, but never quite letting him get there. Cesare has been such a great student, to the point where Riccardo almost hates himself for teaching him so well.

Riccardo is torn between wanting to come and not wanting this to end. Cesare’s beard keeps brushing against his most sensitive places as he bobs his head down and then comes back up before he chokes. He trails his fingers lower, past Riccardo’s balls, until he brushes Riccardo’s entrance with his fingertips, like asking for permission. Riccardo wants to laugh, because Cesare shouldn’t need to ask when he knows the answer already.

“What’re you waiting for?” he grits out in strangled voice, one hand finding Cesare’s hair and stroking it back gently. He spreads his legs wider, inviting Cesare to go on, and Cesare responds my rubbing his fingers against Riccardo’s hole, the relaxed knot of muscles giving out, allowing him to push a tip of his finger in even without lubricant.

Cesare pulls back, Riccardo’s cock falling off his lips, and he looks up at Riccardo expectantly. His pupils are blown, making his brown eyes appear almost black. He drops another kiss against the inside of Riccardo’s thigh, beard brushing against his balls and drawing another gasp from Riccardo, who is still so sensitive to touch, so turned on it physically hurts.

“I suppose you have lube somewhere?” Cesare raises one eyebrow, his tone teasing, and Riccardo wants to complain that it’s only because Cesare never bothers to prepare anything in advance, so one of them has to do it.

“My jeans.” Riccardo nods towards the pile of clothes on the floor lazily, already dreading the loss of contact even before Cesare stands up – it takes a couple tries, his legs shaking with what must be arousal, and Riccardo has to bite back a teasing comment about his bad knees – and goes rummage through the pockets.

Riccardo pulls off his own t-shirt and throws it behind the couch carelessly, leaving himself completely naked aside from his socks. His body is not cooperating on that one – he tries to lean down once but decides immediately the socks can stay for now.

Cesare is pulling off his own clothes, first the button-up shirt and then the pressed dress trousers. Always so well-dressed, even in the privacy of his own home, Riccardo muses as he watches the show. The white briefs are the last piece to go – Cesare even takes off his socks first – and Riccardo lets his gaze trail down unabashedly, eyeing Cesare’s erection with unveiled appreciation.

“Remember the first time you blew me?” Riccardo asks as Cesare sits down next to him, urging Riccardo to lift his feet up on the couch, one leg caught between Cesare’s body and the couch, while the other rests comfortably in Cesare’s lap. His spread legs allow Cesare perfect access to his cock and his entrance below that.

“Do you need to remind me?” Cesare asks with an embarrassed laugh.

“I do! Because look at you now, so turned on just from giving me pleasure.” Riccardo trails his hand down Cesare’s chest until he can grasp his fully erect cock. He leans in to press a kiss on Cesare’s cheek, just next to his ear. “Not many men are like that. They take and take and take. This makes you more special than you think.”

“Sometimes I worry what kind of men you’ve been seeing before I came along,” Cesare mumbles, a soft blush on his cheeks all the reward Riccardo needs for his compliments. “You’re so beautiful, Riccardo, how could anyone not want to give you pleasure?”

“You’d be surprised.” Riccardo gives Cesare’s cock a few good strokes, revelling in the way his breath hitches in his throat, but then he lets go and leans back against the large pillows in the corner of the couch, lifting his hips expectantly. “That’s why I choose to wait for you. Because you’re special.”

He holds Cesare’s gaze, half-expecting him to argue, but instead Cesare takes the little foil package of lube and tears it open carefully, squeezing the clear gel into his hand.

“How long has it been for you?” he asks as he pushes the first finger in, Riccardo’s relaxed body allowing the entrance with little to no resistance. The arousal helps a lot, but much more importantly, it’s because he _trusts_ Cesare; he knows Cesare, knows he would never hurt him intentionally.

“I don’t know, my brain’s not working.” Riccardo closes his eyes and wills his body to stay still, waiting for Cesare to spread the lube inside him, before he pushes another finger alongside the first one. “When were you last in Italy? You do the math.”

Cesare’s movements halt at this revelation. Riccardo feels a little bit hurt at that: that Cesare would even think he’s sleeping around with other people while he’s gone. The only reason they haven’t _agreed_ to be exclusive is because Cesare keeps changing the subject when the topic of their relationship comes up.

Riccardo opens his eyes reluctantly and searches Cesare’s face – the confused and needy eyes, parted lips that look like he’s about to say something, and that greying beard Riccardo hates to love – and a bitter smile rises on his lips without his permission as he whispers, “I told you, Cesare. I’m waiting for _you_. I don’t need anyone else.”

Cesare leans over Riccardo’s body and catches his lips into a new kiss, full of desire and suppressed emotions. His hand between Riccardo’s legs moves too, two fingers pushed fully inside Riccardo in pale imitation of what’s to come. Riccardo’s hands find Cesare’s beard again, caressing it and holding him in place, so he can muffle his moan inside Cesare’s mouth when Cesare’s fingers twist inside him and find his prostate.

“I’m yours, Cesare,” he whispers against Cesare’s mouth, their breaths mixing together, fingers trailing his jawline and slipping between their mouths to caress his lower lip, “if you’ll have me.”

Cesare sits up and pulls his fingers out of Riccardo’s body, reaching out for the condom he also found inside Riccardo’s jeans pockets, and Riccardo follows the movement in order to steal another kiss.

“Let me,” Riccardo tells Cesare when the older man rips the package open, taking the condom from his fingers and rolling it over Cesare’s erection. The condom is lubricated, but Cesare spreads the remaining lube over it, nonetheless.

It takes a bit of maneuvering to get Riccardo’s legs back into order – for a second Riccardo wonders if his own knees are already shot with age too – but he manages to straddle Cesare’s thighs again, leaning back slightly so Cesare can position his tip against his prepared hole.

“Ready?” Riccardo asks with a gentle smile, before he dips his hips slowly, Cesare’s cock sinking inside him bit by bit. He can hear Cesare gasp for air, and his hands are gripping Riccardo’s waist so tightly Riccardo fears they might leave a mark. He smiles and leans in to kiss Cesare again, just as he drops down into Cesare’s lap, his cock buried fully inside him.

“Wait,” he breathes out against Cesare’s lips, letting his body get used to the feeling of being filled again, revelling in it. Cesare’s breathing is laboured against his mouth, and Riccardo can feel his body trembling under his own. Or maybe it’s Riccardo’s body that’s trembling? Who knows at this point.

“ _Now_ ,” Riccardo finally gives him a permission to move, just as he lifts himself up, the friction of Cesare’s cock inside him sending shivers up his spine. Cesare’s hips meet his when he comes back down again, mirroring his movements with practiced ease. A great student, indeed.

They don’t need words after that, their movements matching each other, and they work together to find a rhythm that fits them both – fast, shallow movements, Riccardo rising only halfway off Cesare’s cock before he rolls his hips down again, taking him in completely.

Riccardo throws his head back and moans out loud when there’s the delicious pressure against his prostate again, and Cesare immediately attacks his neck with his lips, the beard scratching the sensitive skin in the best possible way. Riccardo grips the back of Cesare’s neck, desperate to hold him close, just a bit longer, just a bit more, a bit more, a bit more—

Cesare slips his hand between Riccardo’s legs and takes his cock into his hand, the firm, fast jerks matching the rhythm of Riccardo’s hips. That does it: Riccardo can feel the waves of his orgasm approaching with every stroke, and then he comes with a relieved moan, his sperm seeping between their bodies, Cesare’s hand spreading it all over his length.

Riccardo’s legs are shaking, unable to hold him up any longer, so he sinks down on Cesare’s cock, even though the pressure inside him suddenly feels like it’s too much to bear. His cock is sensitive too, and Riccardo has to reach down and push Cesare’s hand off as the last waves of pleasure drain from his body, leaving him sated and hypersensitive to touch.

“I’m sorry,” Riccardo gasps out as he leans his forehead against Cesare’s shoulder, lips pressed in the juncture where his shoulder meets the neck. His shaky hands find Cesare’s face again, caressing the beard absent-mindedly, apologetic and grateful at the same time. “I wanted it to last longer. I wanted you to come first.”

Cesare only laughs and kisses Riccardo’s temple. “No, this was perfect like this. You’re perfect. As always.”

It takes a moment for Riccardo to gather himself enough to lift himself off Cesare’s still straining erection. Cesare lets out an urgent groan when Riccardo moves, his hips instinctively following Riccardo’s movement.

Riccardo pulls the condom off carefully to reveal the red flesh. He leans his head against Cesare’s shoulder, nose buried in Cesare’s beard, but eyes trained on his cock and he wraps his fingers around the hot shaft and starts working him towards the orgasm.

He can hear from Cesare’s breathing when he starts nearing his climax, heavy breaths mixing with barely suppressed groans. Cesare turns his face to meet Riccardo’s lips just before he comes, his sounds swallowed into the kiss as he bucks his cock inside Riccardo’s hold one more time and spills his seed into his waiting palm.

“Wow,” Cesare comments when they break the kiss, a stunned expression on his face. Riccardo finds it adorable, how Cesare can still seem so surprised over how good sex can be, even after they have done it so many times. Cesare once told him it’s because he had thought he would never get to experience it again after his wife’s death, but Riccardo doesn’t quite buy the explanation.

Riccardo laughs and buries his face in the crook of Cesare’s neck, exhaustion finally filling his limbs and making it hard to keep his eyes open. “Wow, to you too. I’d missed this.”

Cesare wraps his arms around Riccardo’s shoulders and holds him close, the embrace lulling Riccardo into a state of half-sleep, even though the couch is still uncomfortable as hell and he can practically feel the carpet burn forming on his left knee.

“If I asked you to come home—,” Riccardo says softly, a yawn interrupting the question he is not sure he should be asking in the first place, “If I asked you to come home with me, would you?”

“ _Are you_?” Cesare’s voice breaks through his sleepy mind, and it takes Riccardo a moment to realize what he is asking. “Are you asking me to come home, Riccardo?”

Riccardo doesn’t have enough energy to open his eyes anymore. Cesare’s hand caressing his hair is not helping, either. He still answers, “I might be. If the answer’s yes.”

“Then it’s a yes.” Cesare kisses the top of his head, fingertips massaging his scalp soothingly.

“Good,” Riccardo breathes out and buries himself deeper into Cesare’s embrace. “I’ll hold you to that.”

It is only once he wakes up that he realizes what Cesare’s words truly meant.


End file.
